Illumination: or Fanning the Flames
by Anonomous-Allstar-Fan
Summary: So he's a cad, a drug-dealer, a graverobber; he's still Shiloh's knight in grimy leather. And this knight's orders are, "Search and protect. Whatever innocence you may find, Raptor Mortis, keep it safe. Do not let that world blot it out."  changed title
1. Prologue:  The Show Must Go On

**A/N: I know, I know...you don't have to spell it out for me. To any readers of my other chapter story, forgive me. I just can't figure out what the hell I'm gonna do with it. *strangles the thing* And a heck of a lot has been goin' on. Anywho, enjoy mah newest obsession. Wooh! **

**Oh...and on a side note, just so you know...Graves with his narrator schtick has always seemed timeless to me; like an immortal who has seen it a thousand times, fighting himself over whether to get involved or stay out of it(and losing of course. His head advisor *we all gots one* beat him and said 'Don't be an idiot! Get yo butt over dere!). I'll get more into it later when his 'employer' contacts him and when he finds Shiloh. Don't worry, it'll be highly enjoyable, trust me. I expect a few people to say "Why didn't 'I' think of that?" So anyway, enjoy this preview. OH! And don't expect any real Wonderland characters to show. Sorry, it hurts me too, but bringing them in would make huge plot holes that I only have duct tape to patch up. Not pretty.**

**Disclaimer...I REFUSE TO DO A DISCLAIMER FOR EVERY CHAPTER. THIS IS FANFICTION, IT'S INEXCUSABLE. THIS IS ALL YOU GONNA GET: Must I? *flinches at several shotguns being pumped* O-okay. But this will have to do for all the chapters. *ahem* I, ….Anono…hereby declare that no money is made from this. I own nothing, except the Ring Leader, Lucky, and Jack, and that pretty awesome little poem down 'dere :3. Maybe one more OC. It depends on whether I include Grave's backstory or not. (kinda complicated ya know? Might make him dream….*goes to drawing board*)**

**Random army on a hill: GET ON WITH IT!**

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Prologue

The surprisingly brightly dressed, yet still dark and mysterious, figure sat behind its beautiful oak desk sporting a grin that could have been stolen from Cheshire's evil twin(unintentional rhyme! Gaspeth!). Its unusually sharp teeth, made all the sharper by the sadistic grin, could only add to this figure's picture of madness and horror. It wore a suit made of bright red cloth, and tight leather boots ended at its knees where tan breeches took over. The entire outfit was a little too baggy to determine definite curves. Stark white powder, dark eyeliner, and impossibly dark purple lipstick brought to mind nightmares of kid-eating clowns. All of this, with the boyishly slim figure and top hat stuffed with hair, brought a question to mind as well: Man, or woman?

The man just now entering the haphazard mess that some might dare call an office truly did not care. He worried more for the ever weaker connection between his head and shoulders. The smile widened, if that's even possible, when its owner heard the loud gulp from its newest spying friend, companion, lackey, servant, minion, slave…whatever suits you to call the unfortunate young man.

The very much afraid spy whipped off his hat in respect and began nervously wringing it in his hands. He was not a coward. You could never mistake him for that, no. Outside that office, he was tough as nails and not afraid of a fight. But he also had a very strong instinct for survival. His employer terrified him for reasons the spy could never explain in words.

Old, knitted cotton yarn stretched and twisted and threatened to break for a few moments longer than the wearer would have liked. He managed to swallow a lump of fear before it formed in his throat and stuttered out a greeting to the figure. "G-good evening," he swallowed again, audibly, as he tried to wet his dry mouth, "R-ring, Ring Leader."

His efforts were not to be rewarded that night.

"You will address me as 'Leader' and _only '_Leader'! There are no circus tents here, or have you gone blind? I can't have blind animals in my act!"

The young-ish spy trembled minutely at the sound of his Leader's voice. Listening to that authoritive tone was as if a whip had cracked dangerously close to his backside.

"N-no. Of course, my apologies…Leader."

Ring Leader's smile lessened, but was just as sadistic. "That's much better, Jack. No, this entire island will very soon replace that awful, tacky piece of tarp." Leader's slim body did a graceful handstand on the desktop and smoothly flipped forward to land in front of Jack. Tapered fingers patted Jack's cheek, as if he were a small child. The grin widened in glee at his annoyed grimace.

"Oh, don't worry your hideously normal," proving him…her…itself wrong, a tongue darted out to moisten lips, "little head. You come through for me, Jack, and I'll come through for you. We had a deal after all, right?" The Ring Leader continued at Jack's nod, but not before planting its… (his? -.-) backside primly on the edge of the desk, legs crossed. "Of course. But because I'm kind," a giggle, "I'll help you remember. RECITE!"

Jack jumped at the sudden exclamation, then stood ramrod straight. He knew that whatever came out of his mouth had to be good. If nothing else, it at least had to be better than the man's whose blood stained the carpet uncomfortably close to Jack's feet. Lucky for Jack, he happened to be a very good spy and eavesdropper. It did not mean he had to enjoy playing bard for this mad person.

Jack opened his mouth with difficulty and began with absolutely no emotion.

"Aye, Leader."

A promise made,

Is a promise kept.

A promise broken,

Is why he wept,

That day on the hill,

over an ill-gotten deal.

"It's gone!," he cried,

"The power, it's gone!"

With a final sob,

He shuddered and died,

That day on the hill,

Over an ill-gotten deal.

When a promise is made,

So is a bond.

The keeper, the receiver,

Both are forever bade,

To keep their part,

And the promise made,

Like the one on the hill.

Such an ill-gotten deal.

A promise fulfilled,

Brings reward unequaled,

But if a promise is broken,

That bond breaks with it.

The greater the promise,

The greater the punishment.

The power was once yours,

Forever it is spent.

That man made a promise,

And great it was indeed.

He lied, he cheated,

He fell to his greed.

That is why, that is how.

He died that day,

Out on the hill.

The man had died,

Over an ill-gotten deal.

The Ring Leader jumped to…its feet, clapping wildly and over the top like a rabid fan. "Marvelous, marvelous! Oh, you will make a most magnificent citizen of the Land of Wonder!" He/she/it draped an arm over Jack's shoulder and roughly drug him through, and around and over, piles of paper, weapons, and the occasional wild animal to stand in front of the large, floor length windows. Jack kept silent, knowing Leader would keep talking, prompted or not.

"Just look at it all Jack, all that filth and disease. All those poor, weak, ignorant people. So easy to shape any way I wish." None was said with anything other than excitement, a sickening joy, and underlying hints of sarcasm and mirth. To this…thing, human lives were toys to be played with. Animals to be trained in immoral ways.

Jack did look. The view was not unfamiliar. Any high window or rooftop would unveil the same picture. Down below, near the island's shore, graveyards sprawled on the edge of everything and nothing. The larger cemeteries cropped up right next to the main city and encroached upon higher class and "old money" districts. Pale moonlight would occasionally fall gently on the old stones, making an eerie, yet beautiful, and entrancing sight. That was where the more pleasant sights ended. Money or no, the houses in that old district weren't well kept and many were abandoned in lieu of repairs.

His gaze moved closer to the inside; it swept over GeneCo trucks and their non-living cargo, dark alleyways filled with shady dealers and addicts. Jack lingered over one particular alley, better lit than most others. It was there that his prey haunted the night. He moved on, over surgery ads, mass graves, arguments to keep organ repossessions legal. Sluts rambled the streets, half-conscious and crawling through refuse. Anyone with enough money, or not enough sense, obsessed over physical perfection. It disgusted him and at the same time made him want to weep in despair.

Jack began to realize Ring Leader was waiting for him to respond. The rarity of the Ring Leader asking for and wanting a reasponse was startling. He swallowed the sudden nausea and terror to comply. "It's…quite a sight…Leader." It was a simple statement that could be taken one way or the other. It made the Ring Leader's eyes twinkle with mischievous amusement.

"Very good, Jack! I knew you'd be trainable!" The Ring Leader spun towards the back wall, a flourish with every simply movement. Jack was glad Leader's back was turned to him. He was having a hard time stamping the look of disgust, horror, and self-loathing off his face. Luckily, the Ring Leader was preoccupied with a monitor and scratching a large jungle cat with his free hand. Jack had just reassumed his role of underling when Leader began another dramatic monologue from he/she/its leather swivel chair.

"Yes, it is the perfect show ring, don't you think Jack?" A response was not wanted this time and the unfortunate spy knew it. He did not have to respond even if he wanted to. Ring Leader answered for him. "Of course it is. What a loyal little dog you are to agree with your master. Think of it!" He/she/it pointed to the two large screens with too much enthusiasm. The glamorous Largos filled one, featured next to a poster promoting GeneCo's newest product and surrounded by blinding flashbulbs. The other replayed a grim scene; the ruin of a young girl's life and naivety.

"Soon, very soon, what is theirs will be mine! And then," Ring Leader swiveled around in the chair eerily to aim the grin at Jack, "I will be able to obtain for you whatever it is that you wish. If only you would have agreed to tell me as well as spy for me." Loud, mad cackles erupted from the frightening grin.

Jack tried to ignore the icy fingers trailing down his spine and turned to look instead at the bottom corner of the young girl's screen. There was a small box he hadn't noticed before; a surveillance video of the large, simple man Jack had unwillingly drugged and led to the resident dungeon. His jaw tightened while his stomach twisted with guilt and Jack tried to reason with himself that no harm would come to the man; he was comfortable, warm, and fed. Regardless…the spy had to ask.

"What of him?" Jack gestured to the small surveillance video even though Ring Leader knew exactly what he was speaking of. The Leader's expression darkened like a sudden summer storm. He/she/its tone became calm and composed. The calm before the storm, Jack could not help to think.

"He is useless. His only purpose is to continue breathing and not get lost in another rift."

Jack nodded respectably, his own expression neutral to keep from setting off Leader. He turned his head to the window, catching sight of his target's haunt. He tilted his head pointedly at the window.

"And him? The rumors; they're few and far in-between, but the stories and theories…" Jack trailed off, not entirely sure how to convey his suspicions. Ring Leader neither wanted nor needed any of it.

He/she/it swiftly became the grinning mask of mischief and devilry once more. Leader sat back, legs crossed, and fingers laced.

"Delightful little man! Are you afraid, Jack? You should…and shouldn't be. Formidable, yes, but very much alive I can assure you!"

"But…you said anything-," Jack was cut off sharply with a scathing look. Once again, he felt as if a whip cracked and lashed through the air, millimeters from his skin.

Ring Leader's eyes conveyed anger at the interruption that normally would not be considered an interruption and continued gleefully with, "Of course I said that! It's true. Anything is possible in Wonderland! We're all mad after all! But there is one thing that isn't possible in this or any other world."

Jack nearly scowled at the annoying, dramatic pause. He grudgingly played his part for Satan's stunt-double. "What would that be, oh Leader?"

Ring Leader's smile became a chilling smirk, eyes flashing like a fox's. It readily provided the answer.

"Well, even here, dead men walk no trails."

A single thought broke through the ensuing maniacal laughter of the Ring Leader and battled its way to the front of Jack's mind.

'_Heaven help me, I never meant to sell my soul.' _

**Bob: *clops in and sticks an arrow sign in the ground then building a fire pit and setting out s'mores fixins, apparently preparing for incoming flames. The sign is pointing to that pretty little lilac button at the bottom corner there* REVIEW! My Master just might hold to her threat and set the Great Chicken on me! *rubs a thick red line imprinted on his cheek* She wields that blue glowstick masterfully.**


	2. Oh, What a Way to Begin this Ending

**(A/n: Yes, yes. I know. I've been doing re-writes like crazy. But not to worry! Once I've gotten over the Doctor's stupidity this will be finished before you know it. Then I can get back to WDDM. Sorry to those readers...it's in the improvement process at the moment. Anywho...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but Jack, Lucky, Roc, Terrell...a few things actually. Anything you recognize I have no claim to. There. **

**On With the Fic!**

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Oh, What a Way to Begin this Ending

_This place was not always so desolate, so decayed, so full of disease and despair (yay for d's!). Once it was the charm of Wonderland. The Realm of Clubs, affectionately dubbed Roc by the citizens, was a mirror to the modern world. _

_ The citizens of Roc had, at one time, prided themselves on keeping and adapting to the very best of modern cultures, fashions, ideas, religions, architecture, cuisine, music, art….the whole of the modern world. A person from Earth, or 'reality', could step in from a city(depending on where they WERE and where they come out) and not notice a bit that they were where they should not be until they saw how the Laws of Wonderland do not necessarily include the Laws of Nature. _

_ Oh, the wonders! The island, Roc, used to be huge and bright and full of clean air and light and sun and rain and snow and whatever else Mother Nature felt like throwing. The mind-blowing novelties never ceased, and the rural communities never let the delicious edible plants and meats, all made better by the latest of technologies and techniques of course, end either; even though they produced only a quarter of all of Wonderland's food, they took pride in their work. Across the great bridge modeled after San Francisco's Golden Gate went the goods and back across came what the island could not procure itself. Roc had been considered an emerald on that seemingly endless expanse of blue. And then…it came._

_ Everyone was afraid. Everyone had very good reasons. The guardian, the Ace of Clubs, had vanished. None knew where or when he had gone. He simply was. The Ace simply was not there to hold back those with evil intentions; nor was he there to lead home the innocently lost._

_ Roc began to crumble on the physical plain and the metaphorical one. The bridge fell into the ocean. Boats could go no further than five hundred feet out before dropping anchor of their own accord. The mainland was too far to see as even a tiny line on the horizon at noon. Planes and other flying devices would mysteriously turn a complete one hundred and eighty degrees despite the pilots' best efforts at the same point the boats stopped. Something had placed an invisible wall between them and the rest of their home. The people of Roc had been cut off from Wonderland. It was at this realization that the gateway into Earth slammed shut with an audible 'boom'._

_ Disease and illnesses began to ravage humans, plants, and animals alike. Soil, air, and water were filled with pollution, poisoning the body and weakening the immune system. Organs could not fight off symptoms of the smallest of things, like the common cold, resulting in a wave of heart, kidney, and liver failure (1). Panic set in, hospitals overflowed. The city became crowded with refugees from the several small communities providing what little food they could. A false messiah came to them in the form of Rotti Largo and his bloodsucking business name GeneCo._

_ But only one would witness the most horrible thing of all. He would watch the decay, the gradual downward spiral, mourn as Wonderland's people forgot Wonderland, and would not be able to help the fact that what he saw….was time flying by. Literally. In the span of one year on Earth, the date on Roc had gone from 1993 to 2040. To those who knew it, it meant only one thing. The Ace of Clubs had fallen into a time-rift. Now that time slowed back to a normal pace, the Ace had come through the other side._

_ And so that one man spent the next seventeen years searching. He searched for the Ace, and helped the poor souls he saw forget this awful place; even if it was only for a moment. These were not his most important missions, however. Innocents were few and far in-between, but this man, who was commanded long ago to keep the timeline, had sharp eyes and ears. Very little could escape his notice._

_ An abandoned warehouse on the edge of "Sanitarium Isle's" largest cemetery(opposite the old money district), now warm and hospitable and far from abandoned, filled with laughter and song and the voices of the island's most unfortunate; there is nothing sadder than a child left to face the world alone._

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Through the empty alleyways and streets, just before dawn made its murky debut, a sharp whistle echoed. In quick succession it went high and then low nearly indistinguishable from a bird's call. When the sound reached the ears of the little rat of a man sent to deliver a message to Graverobber, he stood stock-still. He strained his ears, hoping for some kind of warning. Unsurprisingly, one never came. The messenger squeaked and spun away, nearly falling over, when a large hand clamped onto his shoulder.

"Bloody 'ell Graverobber! Do ya 'ave ta give a bloke a heart attack?" The tiny messenger squeaked indignantly in a heavy cockney accent, but Graverobber only laughed in his deep baritone.

"Oh come now. T'was only a bit of fun." He smirked wickedly, Zydrate blue eyes narrowed with mischief. "What has my favorite runner (2) got for me now?"

The tiny man straightened his jacket with jerky, angry motions. He didn't dare try to talk-back though. The Graverobber might have a sense of humor, but there was a reason Graverobber's business was done solo (not that anyone knew why). If the man gave the Graverobber any reason at all to ruffle feathers at the meeting (other than the usual reasons that is) he'd be short a few layers of skin on his back.

"Meetin's at 8:00 tonight. If you're interested, that is. No skin off my back if you don't show your face." Graverobber raised an eyebrow. They both knew that wasn't true. "Mind you, Mister Campbell gets mighty disappointed when you don't show. And when I say disappointed I mean off-'is-rockuh insane."

The runner began to head back down the street, throwing comments over his shoulder as he went, occasionally shaking his head and throwing a palm through the air. "But go on then. Sod off and disappear for all I care. By the way, Sir Rawlins is wantin' to speak wiff you afters."

The Graverobber couldn't help but chuckle at the man's retreating back. That was why the man was Grave's favorite runner. No fear. Visibly at least. Nothing but cheek and sarcasm at the surface.

But for now, he had more important things to worry about. Turning to face the way he came, the Graverobber gave three whistles. Each started high then went low, the next one being lower than the first, and so on. Once he'd heard an answering whistle, the opposite of his, he nodded and headed into the cemetery. Graverobber walked straight ahead, paying only enough attention to duck under searchlights and jump tombs and fallen headstones.

As he moved through, and the GeneCops moved out with the dim light of morning ('Idiots. Can't operate without orders'), Graverobber's thoughts wandered aimlessly, not going in any particular direction, until he focused on the actual task at hand.

'_There is no way the kid's going to agree to come with me.'_

_ 'Of course not,' _he argued with himself. '_You did do a fine job of scaring her away.'_

_ 'I meant to scare her so she would go HOME. Not get a taste of the world and let herself be lured out for more.'_

_ 'Yeah, and look how that worked out. Her father dead, god-mother gone, Amber Sweet most likely after her…'_

_ 'OKAY…I get it. Damn it, I should have just taken her straight home and given her a lecture or some shit.'_

_ 'That's what I said, but did you listen? Noooo, of course not.'_

_ 'That's not the-…'_

He paused, mid-step, for half a moment and listened carefully. Nothing made a sound but the wind rustling the leaves of the few trees. The tiny 'clink' of rock falling onto rock didn't repeat. Perhaps a rat…He continued his musings.

'_Look, that's not the point. The point is that Shiloh Wallace is pure as the driven snow and incredibly naïve and alone in an incredibly dangerous city. She's innocent and…and it would be a terrible shame if someone killed her or her innocence. I have to find her, and fast. There's no telling what the bratty trio will do.'_

_ 'And I suppose it has absolutely nothing to do with thinking for a few seconds the kid was your big sis.'_

_ 'Nothing at all. I don't need to think about things like that right now.'_

_ 'Hmmm…fine, but the subject is not going in the attic to collect dust. And what about our stalker? Wouldn't it be really bad to lead him to Shiloh's house?'_

_ 'Why the Hell do you think I'm headed in to a crypt?'_

Graverobber had already opened it and moved underground into the space, lighting old, but still functional, torches as he went. He scowled and grumbled in annoyance of the small detour. Despite his grievances, the graverobber took a small delight in the simple trap he'd set. In seconds he was gone from sight and the tailing teen was cautiously descending the steps.

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Shiloh was cold. Scratch that, she was freezing. Her dress and wig were soaked with blood and water and, only a minute ago, mud. It was safe to say she was not a happy camper.

In addition to that, she was hungry, and lost. The tiny girl had marched out of the opera two hours ago, completely numb, head held high despite it all. She had climbed awkwardly into the limo and after three blocks told the driver to stop. He did, and didn't say a word as she got out and began to walk. With no one to keep her captive, she kept moving. Shiloh didn't know how long she walked, but when she finally awakened from her trance, she found herself in the midst of a familiar scene.

It was not Graverobber. She knew that. The man hawking his illegal wares was a foot too short and had no make-up. His skin was too dark, his hair was bleach blonde, and his expression was too cold; too greedy and unfeeling. No, this was simply another graverobber, seller of Zydrate.

In fact, Shiloh began to wonder if he even robbed the graves. There was no dirt under his fingernails at all, and his clothing was free of grave dirt and anything else it was possible to get on you while robbing a grave. She didn't dwell much longer on it and decided to get away instead, before someone took notice of her.

Unfortunately for little Shiloh, it was too late for that. Two shadows followed her away from that alley and down the dark, poorly lit streets.

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On the other side of the city, in a high rise office, someone screamed obscenities and insults at two of their employees. The shouting continued for ten minutes, then orders were thrown and the two guards were tied to the wall, backs facing their employer. There was no mercy from the boss as he-she whipped them viciously. The cracking of the whip did not stop until long after neither guard had breath to scream with.

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**(A/n:**

**1) Just kinda put the three majors. Anything classified as an organ can fail, but heart, liver, and kidney are the most common. Kinda interesting actually. Liver failure causes jaundice which turns your skin and sometimes eyes yellow. The others are just painful. Nevermind...I'll shutup now.**

**2) Mirror's Edge, anyone? Basically just a messenger who's quick on his feet.**

**Don't hold your breath, but I would appreciate a little feedback. It's nice to find out what people think about this 'cause it's kinda my baby... anyone? Anyone? ...Bueller?**

**Cookie to anyone who can name that movie AND the teacher that says that! REVIEW!  
**


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